


The Ones Left Behind

by derryderrydown



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Young Justice
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cissie loves Greta just for being there, for knowing what it's like to have saved the world, once upon a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ones Left Behind

On Friday afternoons, Cassie goes off without a backwards glance and Cissie realises all over again, every time, just how quiet a bedroom can get.

So, as always, she turns up her music and concentrates on getting her homework out of the way so the rest of the weekend is free.

Not free for anything in particular. Just free. In case it's needed.

It's always eight o'clock when Greta taps on her door. Always a nervous, hesitant little tap, as though Greta's always afraid Cissie's going to be too busy. And that's stupid, because Cissie's never turned Greta away, but it's endearing too and it makes Cissie feel important and wanted. So maybe she isn't quite as welcoming as she feels.

"Hi," Greta says and folds herself up neatly on Cassie's bed.

"Hi," Cissie says and closes her laptop. "Done your English Lit essay?"

They talk about homework and school for ten minutes tonight. It's about average, although sometimes they talk for as long as twenty minutes if something exciting - exciting by school standards - has happened. Then Greta hands over the DVD she's brought.

It's a romantic comedy, which doesn't exactly hit Cissie's buttons but Greta likes them, and it's Greta's turn. Not that they've ever actually _arranged_ turns but they've settled into the pattern without needing to speak about it.

Cissie's laptop is always put on her bed and Cissie and Greta always sit on Cassie's bed, leaning against the wall and pillows and, as the film progresses, each other.

As Parminder Nagra drunkenly tries to kiss Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Cissie feels Greta's hand on her bare thigh. It's a bit earlier than normal but Cissie doesn't mind. Sometimes she gets tired of the routine but Greta likes the security of it, so Cissie puts up with it.

It's strange how soft Greta's hand is, almost as soft as when she was Secret.

Cissie feels a moment of irritation at her own hard, calloused hands but Greta's never complained, even when she's ended the night with scratches on her thighs, so Cissie quashes the feeling and rests her hand on the back of Greta's neck.

Greta turns to smile sweetly at her, then wriggles down to lie with her head on Cissie's thigh. Cissie can feel Greta's breath, warm and damp, and she shuts her eyes and breathes deeply.

She strokes up, touches the soft skin beneath Greta's ear, and Greta shudders. Cissie bends to drop a light kiss on Greta's temple but Greta rolls over and Cissie kisses her mouth instead.

It was meant to be a touch, but Greta opens her mouth and it's an invitation that Cissie doesn't want to refuse.

When her back starts to hurt, she straightens up. "What about the film?"

"I've seen it." There's a knowledge in Greta's eyes that makes Cissie nervous. In a good way, like when she's drawing her bow for her first shot in a big competition. "The end ruins it."

"The end always does." Cissie isn't sure what she means but it feels like an important truth.

"Not always," Greta says, and she pushes Cissie until she's lying down.

Cissie's tried to come up with a reason for why they always do this on Cassie's bed. She thinks it might be something to do with Cassie still being a hero but that doesn't quite make sense.

This isn't the time for thinking. That comes later. This is the time for kissing Greta, soft and sweet until Greta nibbles at Cissie's lip and that's the sign that Cissie can step up the pace. Sometimes, holding back makes her want to cry. Sometimes, she wants to hurl things against the walls and break them.

Sometimes, she wants to break Greta, break Cassie.

Not tonight. Tonight, Greta's hand is on Cissie's cheek, and she's warm and pliant and willing beneath Cissie and Cissie loves Greta just for being there, for knowing what it's like to have saved the world, once upon a time.

Then Greta's hand is on Cissie's waist, pushing up beneath her shirt, cupping her breast, rubbing her nipple and Cissie breaks the kiss to pull her shirt over her head and strip her bra.

She likes the feel of Greta's shirt against her breasts, likes the way Greta's eyes always open wide and she bites her lower lip. Always looks as though this is some kind of _privilege_, rather than something that Cissie needs.

Cissie kisses her again and drapes her leg over Greta's thigh, uses it to pull her in closer, kisses her until she hears Greta whimper, until Greta's hand clenches tight against Cissie's back. That's her cue to slide her hands between them, to unbutton Greta's shirt, and she doesn't even need to stop the kiss to do it.

Greta's a little plump and Cissie wishes she'd been allowed to be plump. She loves the softness of Greta, she way she always seems to melt away beneath Cissie's touch. Loves the taste of her skin and the little noises she makes as Cissie nuzzles her breasts through the white cotton of her bra. Loves the feel of her breasts in her hands, so warm and full and perfect.

"Cissie," Greta says softly and Cissie looks up.

"Hmm?"

Greta smiles. "Nothing." But she sits up enough to unsnap her bra and drop it off the side of Cassie's bed, to unfasten her skirt and wriggle out of it.

Her panties match her bra. They always do, and Cissie can never quite decide if it's just that Greta _always_ matches or if she does it specially for Cissie. She likes it. Either way, she likes it.

She worms down and licks Greta's belly button, until Greta giggles and curls up. "Cis_sie_," Greta says, her voice hitching around her laughter.

Cissie grins and wriggles further down, hooks her fingers in Greta's panties and pulls slightly.

Greta's, "Cissie," is breathless for another reason now.

"Yes?" Cissie asks.

"Yes!" Greta says, emphatic as always.

Cissie can never quite reconcile how Greta can be so innocent and yet so enthusiastic. Nice girls and whores shouldn't be the same person. Her mother taught her that. Then again, her mother was usually wrong.

Greta lifts her hips and Cissie pulls her panties off and drops them on the floor. Then she kisses the inside of Greta's knee and Greta sighs.

"Oh, Cissie."

Cissie alternates licks and kisses, moving up Greta's thigh. And, finally, her mouth is against Greta's clit and Greta isn't sighing any more because she's moaning, quiet and constant.

Cissie knows Greta. They've been doing this for months and Cissie learns quickly. So she knows exactly how to tease, with broad swipes of her tongue, lingering kisses, light touches. Knows when the pitch of Greta's moans mean she wants - _needs_ \- Cissie's fingers inside her. Knows from her faltering breath when it's all been too much and Greta's come.

"Cissie," Greta says, and rests her hand on Cissie's head, smoothing her hair.

Cissie wriggles up and drops a light kiss on Greta's mouth. "Hey."

Greta smiles and blinks, her pupils blown. "My turn."

Cissie kisses her again. "No rush." But Greta's hand is on her breast, thumb rubbing her nipple, and Cissie lets her eyes fall shut. Greta's hands are warm and slightly damp and she thinks it's possible that should be unpleasant but it isn't. It's Greta, and Greta's mouth is hot against her breast and her fingers are soft on her thigh, smoothing up under her skirt to pull her panties down.

Not all the way down. Just far enough for Greta to slip her hand in, to brush against Cissie's clit, and Cissie lets out a pleased moan, because Greta knows Cissie, too. Knows Cissie likes to be touched harder than Greta, to be pushed hard and fast.

Greta sucks harder at Cissie's nipple, rubs her fingers faster over her clit, and it's enough for Cissie to come.

When Cissie opens her eyes, Greta looks smug. Cissie smiles.

"I need to get back to my room," Greta says.

Greta always has to go back to her own room. School rules. "Sure." It might be nice to fall asleep together but Cissie knows that won't happen.

She watches as Greta gathers her clothes together and puts them back on. Greta moves neatly, her movements economic. Occasionally, Cissie thinks about how quickly Greta got used to having a solid body again. She thinks Greta's pretty amazing.

"Want to go into town tomorrow?" Greta says.

It's not a date request. It's a normal, schoolfriends request. Cissie wonders what she'd say to a date request. "Sure."

Greta's awkward, shy, as she kisses Cissie goodnight. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

Cissie watches the door shut before kicking off her skirt and wriggling under Cassie's duvet. The sheets smell of Cassie and Greta and Cissie and it feels like home.


End file.
